Spring Break, Letting Go, and Skanky Ho Clothes

It’s spring break at one of America’s best small colleges, the University of Maine at Farmington. Yes, it’s late for spring break, but since UMF has a large contingency of future teachers, they follow the same vacation schedule as public schools in Maine. That means my precious first born is home for the week spending time...mostly with her friends. I just get to catch up on her laundry. But that’s OK. Really. I’m just thankful she’s going back next year.
The truth is that I’m a bad mother. I’m reliving my childhood through my child. Thirty years ago my parents felt that going away to college and living in a dorm would have done me a world of good. Being a typical Aroostook County girl, the idea didn’t appeal to me at all. I spent four years living at home, attending the local university. I’d probably still be living at home if a really cute guy hadn’t come along. But that’s another story for another time. After years of listening to my brothers and hubby, I came to realize I wished I’d gone away to school too. I have very few regrets in life, but I do think I missed out on something special. So the minute she was born, I started my plan to push her out of the nest upon high school graduation.
I always thought that the main reason I couldn’t leave home was because I was afraid of the unknown. This was mostly true, but I also loved home. I had no intentions of raising a "fraidy cat" like myself so I started early encouraging her to get out and see the world without mommy whenever possible. By age four, she’d seen North Carolina without mommy, and by six it was Florida for two whole weeks. Aside from a couple of phone calls each day, traveling with grammy and grampy was great! I also made sure she experienced lots of interesting places away from home with mom and dad. Boston and it’s art museum was a real hit and five trips to WDW didn’t hurt my cause.
By high school, she’d really hit the big time in travel. An FFA road trip to Louisville got her to NYC, Washington, the Mammoth Caves, and Niagra Falls. New York City, Paris and London soon followed. At the start of her senior year, this kid had fulfilled all my dreams. Two more road trips with her friends, another lead in the school musical, and the best one of all...Senior Class President. I was the proudest mother in town and was already planning what to buy her for the dorm room in the fall. The applications were sent in and we just had to wait for the acceptance letters. Then everything went to hell in a handbasket. Yes, she got accepted, but guess what? She didn’t want to leave home. There were many heated arguments, but in the end, daddy backed her and she was off to my real alma mater. Not the one I should be claiming. I was disappointed but a little ashamed of myself too. Mostly disappointed.
After two years of college at home, she finally saw the light and decided she’d had enough of this one horse town, and I struck while the iron was hot . I packed the bags, paid the bills, and sent her on her way. It was a little rocky at first, but thanks to cell phones and MSN messenger, she made it. Actually, she fell right back into her old high school routine of friends, travel, theater, and student government with just enough studying to keep the grades in place. Only problem turned out to be changing her major, which will mean an extra year of tuition. But I’m not complaining, I finally got what I wanted.
You’re probably wondering how the "skanky ho" clothes fit into this story. Well, on her first night home we went for a walk and a talk. I was feeling a huge surge of maternal pride as she told me about everything in her life and plans for next semester. Then she dropped the bomb....mom we really need to go shopping this week. I need a dress for the end of the year banquet, and, oh yeah, I need some "skanky ho" clothes for Thirsty Thursdays. My roommate says I’ve just got to get a better look for nights out a the bar. Maybe mom’s real alma mater wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The Truth about How I Feel about Dale Jr.'s Season So Far

My favorite blog spot is fingerprintonline.com. I found it by chance because I’m a Dale Jr. Fan. That’s right, not a NASCAR fan, but a Junior fan. My favorite color has always been red so I guess it was mean to be. I log on daily for some humor, politics, ideas to cruise the web, and Dale Jr. information. That place has got it all. Usually I leave a comment for Jade or Mike but I sometimes censor my opinions. But this is MY blog, so this is the real deal. For years I only watched NASCAR races because my little brother and his wife were "REAL FANS" and if I wanted to spend time with them on Sunday afternoons and occasional Saturday nights, I HAD to watch NASCAR. Most of the time, OK, all of the time, I spent it giving a running commentary of the race. Of course, I delivered it in my best redneck drawl with lots of color. Sometimes I got very close to being thrown out of the house by my brother. Thank God my sister in law has a great sense of humor, and my little brother wouldn’t dare throw me out when she’s around. My most colorful comments always came during the Victory Lane celebrations. Who could possibly resist making fun of those droning odes to sponsorship? "Well, the Dupont Ford was just totally awesome today (Hold Up Sodacan) We were a little tight in the first part of the race, (Hold Up Sodacan)but I used my NEXTEL cell phone to tell my crew to give her a wedge adjustment with some DeWalt tools and fill ‘er up with a can of Viagra mixed with Gatoraide. (Hold Up Sodacan). Man, I was really giving it all I had during the last twenty laps, but (Hold Up Sodacan) but it was a hard race . (Hold Up Sodacan) If it hadn’t been for those Ritz crackers and a Coors Light on that last pitstop, I don’t think we could have made it." (Yes , I know it’s the Dupont Chevy, just trying to be nice and not let it out who I was really making fun of . Besides , FORD means Found On Road Dead)
My humorous commentaries came to a screeching halt after the first time I heard a Dale Jr. interview. As I waited with anticipation for something to make fun of, this one didn’t sound like a bag of hot air. Whoa. This guy actually sounded humble and well, nice. He sounded like he really enjoyed what he was doing and he reeked sincerity. I was at a loss for words. Who could possibly make fun of this guy and not feel just a little mean hearted. I turned to my sister in law ( a true Junior fan), and asked if he was for real. She just smiled and said he sure is! Damn, the race was ruined for me that day, nothing to make fun of.
The real turning point for me was the first time I watched a Victory Lane celebration, Junior style. Wow! Talk about pure joy. I hadn’t ever seen anyone that happy at the end of a race. He acted like a little kid on Christmas morning. I remember he thanked a lot of people, but it sure wasn’t another one of the those droning infomercials for his sponsors. No way, this was a real celebration. In all fairness, he probably doesn’t need to mention his sponsor in every other breath, because it’s already touching the lips of most of the people watching the race. I was hooked, that was the end of my commentaries. The next February, on a certain Sunday, I called up my favorite sister in law for a post race commentary. In my most solemn voice I said " You’ll never believe what I just did." She took the bait. Then in my finest redneck drawl, "Why, I just came out of the closet. I watched the whole dang race from start to finish. And Hot Damn, the boy did good!" I’ve been hooked ever since.
Therefore, the 2005 race season has been a little difficult to deal with. When the big switch took place at the end of last year, my first reaction was the world was ending. I adjusted with the rationale that I’m only a fan and the only opinion that really matters is that of the person risking life and limb on Sunday. I think that making such a major change in your working environment has to be a little like getting married, getting divorced, having a new baby, a death in the family, you get the picture. Big changes call for big adjustments and that usually takes a lot of time. So, I have patiently waited as the season unfolds. I can’t imagine how much pressure the "8" team is under this year, yet they have plugged away at it with grace and determination. I personally would love to flick the bird to a certain tv commentator (in the privacy of my own den , I do, and it feels good) and am secretly wishing a certain mean mouthed newspaper person would get a really bad case of the mumps that would last about six months.
But, I am a loyal fan and I am truly happy with a point a week in the standings. I’m sure Dale Jr. will make the chase, it’s just going to take time, so I post only positive and encouraging comments at fingerprintonline.com. But this is MY blog, and I’m going to tell the unvarnished truth. I miss seeing Junior in Victory Lane. I miss seeing a euphorically happy winner, I miss seeing someone happy just for the sake of winning.. Carl Edwards’ back flips may be cool, but hey, they’re not totally spontaneous and God forbid they ever are! So, readers, here is another of my few regrets in life: I wish to hell I had recorded the "Shit in Victory Lane" celebration. That alone could have carried me through this low time even if it lasts all year!

Motherhood 101

I’ve decided that one of the main themes of my blog will be motherhood. I’m definitely not an expert, but with two children of my own and twenty eight hears of experience as a primary teacher, I do know a little about the subject. Mostly, I’ll share where I went wrong, hoping anyone who reads this can profit from my mistakes. My own little angels are now seventeen and twenty-one and I can assure you I was one relieved mother when Time magazine came out with the feature story last year about U.S. children not being officially grownup until their twenty-sixth birthday. Thank God, I thought, there is still hope for the first one and maybe they’ll up it to twenty eight for the second one. My easy going daughter came first and her somewhat less pliable brother arrived three and a half years later. It’s a good thing she was first, because the prospect of raising two of him might have scared me off. Just kidding!
I wouldn’t trade the past twenty two years for any amount of money or great vacations, but I also am highly against anyone taking on parenthood without a huge amount of soul searching and planning before hand. The teacher in me is saying that. I’ve seen way too many little folks who deserved more than they got in the way of parents. So, even though I promise that the majority if my posts will be upbeat and positive, I’m starting off with a good old fashioned rant against parenthood.
Motherhood is a tough job. It is not for those who give up easily, because the longer you’re in it, the harder it gets. People who look at a precious little baby, and think oh, I want one too, should think long and hard about what about what they’re getting into and the reasons they want to do it. If you’re looking for something to fulfill you and make you happy, think twice. Your happiness is a heavy responsibility to lay on someone so small and everyone deserves a parent who already has a handle on their own happiness. It also helps if you have finished with your own childhood. Kids don’t need another playmate. They need a parent who’s in charge.
Make darn sure you really know what your priorities are. If you like your freedom and have a hard time sharing your time and space, don’t have a child. Don’t get a dog either. Even a dog deserves more. Consider how important your career really is to you. I am not saying being a "stay at home" mother is the only answer, but the career can’t outweigh the importance of the child. Trust me, after twenty eight years of teaching, I can assure you stay at home mothers don’t have a monopoly on raising children. I’ve seen really well adjusted children who’s mothers have chosen either path, and I’ve also seen children of both who weren’t so well adjusted. I’ve also seen children from families who could afford "fabulous" live in nannies. Beware, the person who truly spends the quality time with a child also enjoys the closest bond with that child, so if you’re not willing to do it yourself, I recommend a cat. Scratch that. Even a cat deserves more.
You also should consider that kids cost money, and some times a lot of it. I'm not talking about toys, fancy clothes, and all the latest gadgets. Lord knows I could write for days about all the money I've wasted on junk they didn't really need, but children do need a warm safe home, medical attention, and food. Be as sure as possible that you have that area covered before you become a parent.
I guess to sum it all up, make sure you're a GROWNUP before you have a child. If you've got lots of guts, patience, love in your heart, ambition, and energy, and want to leave this world to be a better place when your time is up, have a child and raise it right. But be prepared for an unpredictable and sometimes bumpy ride, but it's also the best ride you'll ever take.

Mud Season in Maine, or Will Winter Ever Be Over?

I live in far northern Maine as in about fifty miles from the norther most tip of the state. People who come to Maine in the summer think Bangor and Bar Harbor are in northern Maine, but they are actually in the southern part of the state. The largest city, Portland, might as well be in Virginia because winter weatherwise, it's a lot more closely related to Richmond than Madawaska.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love the change in the seasons here. I think you get a much better appreciation of the miracles of the planet when you experience nature's rebirth after a long cold winter. However, winter up here can start anywhere from October 1st to January 1st, neither of which is acceptable in my book. Christmas without snow ......well, it sucks. There truely is something magical about a white Christmas. I always wake about two in the morning just to see how many luminaries are still glowing in the snow. Really makes you stop and appreciate the hope of peace and good will for all. A lit bag on frozed brown grass, or worse yet RAIN, just doesn't cut it.
Even worse than Christmas with no snow you ask? Ahhh, try trick or treating in it! I'll never forget the year the snow came and stayed abround October 10th. I spend a weekend sewing a very elaborate "Belle" costume that was large enought to fit over an eight year old with a two piece snowsuit on. Needless to say, I had one very unhappy eight year old who didn't want to be caught dead looking like "Blubber Belle". And of course, Belle doesn't have blue arms. Huge faux pas there. We finally compromised with a tan turtleneck over the blue snowsuit and at that point she looked like "Super Blubber Belle" but hey, A MOM"S GOTTA DO WHAT A MOM'S GOTTA DO! Thank goodness "Batman" was too little to complain at the time. Listening to both of them whine at the same time would have made this mom need a drink or two before the festivities even began. Besides if you're still wearing a diaper you really don't care how chubby you look. When checking out her childhood scrapbooks, I can assure you the pictures do not bring back pleasant memories to our "Belle", but at least she didn't catch a cold.
Oh my, have I digressed! The winter season in Maine does tend to send many a folk off on a tangent. Must be due to the cabin fever. We are currently in what is known as the fifth season: Mud Season. Mud Season is met with both joy and dread, simultaneously. It causes lazy people who wouldn't consider shoveling snow to enthusiastically attack their decks, just to light the grill. Nevermind, that the steak will be stonecold before you get it to the table. It makes you say a pray of Thanksgiving every time you leave your driveway if you are lucky enought to have hot top. It makes you want to yell at the dog or the kids when they venture into the barren fields or the garden... and bounce right into the house with their shoes on , bringing half the field with them. Kids wade in any puddle of water they can find without a care that the water will probably overflow into their boots with 36 degree water, and the boots won't dry out for a week. Strep throat or plastic bags in your boots are a small price to pay for an early taste of summer. I guess I'm still a kid at heart because I dared to defy the advice of both grandmothers and bought each of my children a pair of boots made specifically to test the spring waters. I would have bought some for myself, but I didn't want to look like a total idiot. I'm a teacher, afterall. Mud season in Maine even has it's own scent. If it could be bottled, I'm sure it would sell like crazy in the middle of January. Yes, it stinks, but it is welcomed relief and a sure sign spring is really going to come. The long winters and smelly mud seasons do have one major redeeming virtue. They make you truely appreciate summer. I always think twice before complaining about how hot it is in the middle of July. It beats the hell out of 40 below.

Introducing My Blog: Hoity Toity Yankee Redneck Girl

I suppose it was inevitable that I would eventually start my own blog. I love reading the blogs of other people dispite the fact I don't usually have a clue who they are or where they are from. I also don't know if anyone will ever read my random thoughts and opinions, but it doesn't really matter. I'll have fun writing either way. The only reason I started a blog in the first place was to respond to someone else's blog without bothering Mike Davis of Fingerprint inc.. I wandered over to Mike's friend Scott's blog and laughed until tears were running down my cheeks. Mike passed along my compliments the first time, but after a few returns to Scott's blog I felt I should send my compliments sort of in person. So, thank you Mike and Scott!
First, I thought long and hard what to name my blog. Since I started it just to send a compliment to the " Highly Sophistacated Redneck", I knew I wanted the word redneck it the title because I'm really a redneck at heart. It also pays homage to one of my favorite chickflicks, Sweet Home Alabama. I am a somewhat prissy gal and my southern cousins never let me forget that no matter how nice I am, I'm still a damn yankee. Oh well, some things just can't be changed no matter how many fried dill pickles you eat. I don't think they ever really accepted me as kin until they came north and found out that the northerners actually do know how to have fun. Or it could be that they just came north and had a little too much Yoga Flats punch, especially when they tried drinking it out of an old workboot. Ah, those were the days!